


On A Bet

by Gildedmuse



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, M/M, Motorcycles, One Shot, Or Shouldn't, Pre-Canon, Wizards Can't Drive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-30
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2020-02-10 03:55:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18652402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gildedmuse/pseuds/Gildedmuse
Summary: When Remiss tells Sirius he can't do something, it is not an attempt to dare him into doing said thing.





	On A Bet

**Author's Note:**

> [Originally posted to LJ in 2007]

**On A Bet**

“What do you suppose it is?”  
  
Remus runs his hand across the front of the large machine. His fingers come back with an inch of dust clinging to the tips. “I think,” He wipes his hand down Sirius’s shoulder. “It’s a motorbike.”  
  
Sirius brushes the mess from his new black robes. He asks, “Why do you suppose Uncle Alphrad would have one of these lying about?”  
  
Remus shrugs. “Maybe he prefers it to broom travel.”  
  
“So, you mean, it’s like a Muggle broom, then?” Sirius spits on the chrome and rubs at it with his sleeve until his reflection is twisted and gleaming in the metal. “It does look fast.”  
  
Remus says, “It can’t fly.”  
  
This was not a dare.  
  
*  
  
“Moony?”  
  
Remus taps his foot against the floor when he reads. Each beat elects a slow moan from the wooden boards, and these supply him with a sort of background noise from the text. On average, he reads about two words per creak, but as the book gets more exciting his tapping speeds up. At the moment he was reading one word for every three beats.  
  
“Moony!” Remus’s foot slows to a halt. He looks like he’s been caught going through James’s collection of ‘artistically nude photographs’ that are in no way artistic. The title on the front of his book reads “The Dark Creatures of Southern Africa”.  
  
“Padfoot.” Remus doesn’t sound surprised to find Sirius randomly popping into his house late at night, only mildly annoyed.  
  
Sirius steps into the room. He leans against the doorframe, legs stretched in front of him and hands stuffed into his back pockets. He looks like a model, poising for cameras and bathing in the spotlight.  
  
Remus is searching for a clock. “It’s three in the morning,” he yawns. His body has just realized what time it is and without the book to distract him from sleep Remus finds himself exhausted.  
  
“I have a surprise for you.” Sirius brushes down the front of his shirt and puffs out his chest.  
  
Remus asks, “Is it like that surprise you gave me in fourth year where all the Slytherins ended up smelling like dung for a week?”  
  
Sirius shakes his head. He stretches his legs out in front of him. He says, “This is better.”  
  
Remus is doubtful. Sirius’s ideas on surprises aren’t the same as most sane people that Remus knows. Not that Remus is friends with too many sane people. “You haven’t set your uncle’s house on fire, have you?”  
  
Sirius growls. He tugs his pants further up his hips. He unbuttons the collar of his shirt. “Do I smell like smoke to you?”  
  
Remus makes a show of sniffing the air and end up being pushed against the mattress when Sirius’s pounces. There is an impromptu wrestling match, which ends when Remus’s book falls to the floor with a loud thud.  
  
“Enough!” Remus pushes against Sirius’s chest, which gives him just enough room that he could breath if he weren’t laughing so hard. Sirius is panting, shirt hanging loose and hair so wild James would be envious. He does what Remus says, though, and leans back onto his knees.  
  
Still beneath Sirius, Remus smirks and pats him on the head. “Good dog.”  
  
There is another shuffle in which Remus’s sleep robe gets pushed around his waist and Sirius gets called a pervert. It ends when Sirius gets Remus’s hands pinned to the headboard. Remus is pink, mused, and no longer yawning.  
  
Sirius leans in close. He whispers against Remus’s skin. “Come on.” Then Remus is being dragged out of bed and to the door without time to protest.  
  
“Tease,” he says, brushing down his robe. He’s glad his parents are away. He can’t imagine they’d take Sirius bursting into their home at three in the morning and molesting their son very kindly.  
  
It’s not until they’re in the lit hallway that Remus finally notices. “Why are you wearing my trousers?”  
  
Sirius smiles over his shoulder. “Do you like them?” he asks. “I wanted to look Muggle.”  
  
Remus raises an eyebrow. “Most Muggles doesn’t wear pajama pants that are two sizes too small for them and belong to their friends.” The green and blue stripped trousers are stretches across Sirius’s thighs and hang an inch above his ankles. They don’t go well with the unbuttoned dress shirt Remus also recognized as not belonging to Sirius. “Is this my surprise?” Remus asks. “That you pilfered my closet?”  
  
Sirius leads them towards the back door. He says, “Wouldn’t be too great of a surprise, would it?” before opening the door and ushering Remus outside.  
  
It’s a cool summer’s night. Remus pulls his sleep robe tighter around his body to try and lock in the warmth. It’s not as bad as it could be, but the way his muscles ache he knows he’d rather be tucked away in his own bed, maybe with a certain someone wrapped around him too keep away any late night chills.  
  
That certain someone is much to busy smiling and motioning Remus to follow him into the small yard. “What do you think?”  
  
Remus thinks it was brilliantly stupid for Andromeda to let Sirius stay at Uncle Alphrad’s old house while she and Tonks honeymooned in Italy. It’s clear to Remus that the alone time has driven Sirius even more insane then he’d been the previous summer.  
  
“I’ve already seen the bike, Sirius.”  
  
Sirius runs his hands over the headlight and says, “I cleaned it without any magic. Can’t you tell?”  
  
There is a bit of begging in Sirius’s voice that almost makes Remus want to give in and fake excitement, but it’s chilly, late, and only some stupid Muggle contraption Alphrad Black left hidden away in the attic. All Remus can muster is, “It’s very nice,” in a not so convincing voice. “Can I go back inside now?”  
  
Sirius scoffs at the idea. “You think I brought it here just so you could stare at it?” Remus nods, takes a step back towards the door, and hopes Sirius gets the idea. Sirius ignores him. “We’re going to ride it.”  
  
Remus considers this idea from about three seconds before he recovers his sanity. “No. Absolutely no way in all of hell will I let you get me on that thing.” Remus figures this is straight forward enough that not even Sirius can fail to understand.  
  
Sirius pouts. “Why not?”  
  
“It’s unsafe.”  
  
“I rode it here and I’m fine.” Sirius captures Remus’s hand before he can get back to the safety of his home.  
  
“It’s illegal,” Remus points out, though he has no idea why. The fact that there are laws against something has never stopped Sirius before. Indeed, Sirius snorts and continues dragging Remus towards the bike as if he said nothing at all.  
  
“I don’t like it,” Remus says.  
  
“You’ve never ridden it before,” Sirius replies. “How do you know you don’t like it until you try?”  
  
Remus wants to say he just knows, but Sirius has him pushed against the motorcycle and is wearing that smile that makes speech nearly impossible for Remus, as all the air is caught in his chest. It doesn’t help that Sirius is sliding Remus’s robe up, working his hands underneath the fabric to brush against Remus’s skin.  
  
“Sirius,” Remus whines. “Stop it. We’re right outside my house. The whole neighborhood could see us from here!” Remus holds onto Sirius’s shoulders, fidgeting under the light touches against his thighs.  
  
Sirius’s grin becomes a smirk. “We better get a move on then,” he says, and before Remus can recover, “I’ll help you up.”  
  
The next thing Remus is aware of is the feeling of a cool leather seat between his legs. He glares down at the overly smug Sirius. “You’re a horrible cheat.”  
  
Sirius chuckles as he hops up onto the bike and places a sloppy kiss on Remus’s forehead. He doesn’t deny the bit about cheating.  
  
Remus scowls. He hopes his glare doesn’t look any less frightening when he is flustered and blushing. “Sneaky,” he says. “And you put me one backwards.”  
  
Sirius reaches around Remus for the handlebars. He pulls himself forward until Remus is pressed against the front of the bike and Sirius is flush against him. Remus is starting to get an idea of why he’s facing the wrong direction as Sirius begins to nip at his lower lip. “I think this is just right,” Sirius says.  
  
Remus says, “You’ll never be able to drive like this.”  
  
This was also not a dare.  
  
*  
  
“You can open yours eyes now, Moony.”  
  
Remus keeps his face hidden in the crock of Sirius’s neck. His entire body is wrapped around Sirius, legs entangles and fist clenching the back of Sirius’s (Remus’s, honestly) loose dress shirt. It would have been a lot like cuddling if Remus didn’t feel ready to vomit.  
  
“It’s perfectly safe,” Sirius says. He reeves the engine and takes the bike into yet another slow turn. Remus yelps, clawing at Sirius back until he is nearly sitting into the other’s lap. Sirius is glad Remus’s face is still tucked against his shoulder. He’s sure the other boy wouldn’t appreciate Sirius’s smirk every time they take one of those turns.  
  
“Wha a els weh ew anking?”  
  
“What that? Something about wanking?” Sirius laughs and gets the stubs of Remus’s nails dug into his skin. “Careful there. That actually hurt, mate. Wouldn’t want to kill the driver, would you?” For punishment, Sirius takes the next turn sharper than completely necessary.   
  
After he’s done trembling, Remus pulls back just enough that his mouth isn’t pressed into Sirius’s chest. “What the hell were you thinking?” He repeats. “Dragging me along for a ride on this thing?”  
  
Sirius is smiling down at Remus in a why almost as frightening as his driving. “We’re here.”  
  
Remus closes his eyes again. “Where is here, exactly?” He asks, afraid of what he’ll see if he looks around. He isn’t in the mood for any more of Sirius’s surprises that night.  
  
The motorcycle is still running, but Sirius drops his hands away from the controls and puts them to rest on Remus’s waist. “Not telling,” he says. “You’re going to have to open your eyes at some point.”  
  
“Wanna bet?”


End file.
